


Fell and Fey

by isasolan



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Verse, Canon-Typical Violence, Evil, F/M, Fell and Fey, I apologize to the ghost of Tolkien, Kinslaying, M/M, Murder, Outrageous, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Incest, Treachery, Villains, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:11:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isasolan/pseuds/isasolan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as a challenge: what if Angrod and Aegnor were true villains? Follows canon events, but with evil Finarfinions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fell and Fey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lintamande](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lintamande/gifts).



> Reposted from tumblr. I am so sorry. I am fully aware I have broken canon so many times that I can't even justify it. If this bothers you, please do not read.
> 
> Angaráto=Angrod, Aikanáro=Aegnor, Fëanáro=Fëanor, Arafinwë=Finarfin, Carnistir=Caranthir, Findaráto=Finrod, Artanis=Galadriel, Artaresto=Orodreth, Eldalótë=Edhellos.

In Alqualondë, Angaráto and Aikanáro do hesitate. Only briefly.

 

"They’re killing them," the elder says, shocked and shaken. “They’re killing us."

 

"Not _us_." Aikanáro unsheathes his sword. “Don’t let them see you."

 

He does not understand, but follows him anyway. He always does. They have practiced long hours together in Tirion, fierce and sweaty until their moves were perfected and synchronised. Actually killing is easier than playing pretend. Aikanáro storms on and clears the way, and Angaráto finishes them. For every Teler slaughtered, a Ñoldo dies at their hands. Throwing them in the water feels like child’s play, one they learned with their cousins. What kind of idiot does not learn to swim? All Angaráto has to do is hold their heads down the water until they stop breathing.

 

Ridiculously easy.

 

"We fought for you," Aikanáro says with false devotion and lays his bloodied sword at Fëanáro’s feet. Red with Ñoldor blood. Easily mistaken for Teleri’s.

 

"We pledge ourselves to you," Angaráto goes on. “We renounce Arafinwë the craven. We know how to man boats. We will sail you."

 

The angry sea makes it even easier. The fools know not how to stand on a boat. No sea-legs whatsoever. Angaráto lines them up on the deck, and Aikanáro laughs when they fall, their heavy armors sinking them like stones.

 

"How is it that the only deaths were on your boats?" Carnistir asks when they regroup, suspicious as ever.

 

"We are twice the kinslayers you were, and turncloaks," Angaráto offers, dead-pan. “We got the brunt of Uinien’s hate."

 

His cousin keeps an eye on them, but there is only so much he can see in the confusion of the fire. Ambarussa screams, but they gag him, and throw him in the flames. Fëanáro’s grief for the “accident" almost makes up for everything. Almost.

 

But Fëanáro’s death does. When he’s finally gone, they retreat from the Fëanárion camp, leaving a trail of blood and slaughter in their wake. Their only regret is being unable to spit on his corpse. Orc raids are frequent upon the followers of Fëanáro, but for long years golden storms are no less fierce. Russandol was captured, it is said. They hope he is dead. Only five more left.

 

Findaráto does not understand. Not that they expected him to. They are not welcome among the followers of Ñolofinwë, but they are his brothers, and he cannot turn them away.

 

"Even if you speak the truth, you are slayers, just like them."

 

"Not like them. Are you daft?" Aikanáro has never been gentle. “We killed the right people."

 

"You should not have killed _anyone_."

 

Fuck his moral stance.

 

"We’ve done far more than you," Angaráto says. “And we would have slain him too, but he got himself killed first."

 

Artanis is, unexpectedly, on their side. They are sent to Doriath to negotiate with Elwë. To diffuse the tensions, Angaráto guesses. To solve the diplomatic nightmare of their treachery. When they return, peace has been signed. Russandol is not dead. Six more to go, then. The Fëanárions cannot denounce their duplicity without drawing light to their own crimes, and all is supposed to be forgiven.

 

It is not.

 

Carnistir has the nerve to attack them in council, because of their Teleri blood. Aikanáro laughs in his face.

 

"I piss on your peace," Angaráto shouts, and punches him so hard his skull cracks. Iron-fisted. Carnistir is taken away before they finish him off. He does not die. They’ll berate themselves for it forever.

 

"You are fey," Artaresto tells him. “I am not your son."

 

It hurts, but Angaráto’s heart has hardened. “Whose son are you, then? Findaráto’s?" he says.

 

"Arafinwë's."

 

Aikanáro scoffs. “Stay in these cozy halls like a craven! We ride north, and we’ll fight Melkor."

 

They build their stronghold, one stone at a time. Some of Findaráto’s people followed them. They came to avenge Finwë, not to idle in court. Many are drawn to their pledge. They share a border with some Fëanárions, but anyone bearing their star will be shot first, then questioned later. If he lives. Sometimes Aikanáro sneaks through the border, unseen, and burns their fields and forests. But Orcs are killed by the tens of thousands at their hands. Findaráto writes a letter thanking them for the peace they have bought for his realm. Aikanáro burns that too.

 

It is difficult, at times. Eldalótë has been estranged from Angaráto for years. She too stayed with Findaráto. Aikanáro would like to wed, but few females are warriors, and the few in Dorthonion are married. Angaráto is not even surprised when Aikanáro slips in his bed one night, strong and stiff. In fact, he wonders why they’ve not done this earlier.

 

It’s _different_. But just as pleasant. Their brother-bond is unbreakable, and laying together only strengthens it. Few things are as exhilarating as a romp after an orc massacre, bloodied and filthy.

 

After some time, Angaráto even wonders what it was that he liked about a female body. His brother, though, is still curious. There are many Atani settlements on their lands. Aikanáro visits them often. The women are more than happy to receive him. There is a bit of scandal when one of them mistakes the nature of his interest.

 

"Did you think I would wed you?" he says with a smirk, and never returns.

 

Death comes as a shock, really. They were strong. They were ready. But their army is burned and crushed, and they find that they cannot fight balrogs better than Fëanáro.

 

They die together, like they have always been. Of their unspeakable crimes no record remains, and it is said that when they arrived at the Halls their fëar were so blackened that even Námo started.

 

"You will never return," he tells them after he judges them.


End file.
